


Mom v. Food

by LordBGH



Series: Mom v. Food [1]
Category: BigGirlsHere
Genre: BBW, Extremely Underage, Gen, Incest, Mother-Son Relationship, Parent/Child Incest, Scat, Underage Rape/Non-con, Underage Sex, Weight Gain, feedee, obese, sadist, sadistic, slob, slut, spoiled, ssbbw, ussbbw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28621929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordBGH/pseuds/LordBGH
Summary: The unrated version of my story, Mom v. Food.Being a mother is the hardest job in the world!
Series: Mom v. Food [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097342
Kudos: 1





	Mom v. Food

The creamy, chocolate waterfall decants _decadently_ into my awaiting mouth. Custard and honey are added as the sweet, _silky_ soup streams _dreamily_ into me. This is my life, a never ending cycle of eating and sleeping. I'm sprawled on a sea of soft marshmallows as my family fetches and feeds. My kids work tirelessly, _selflessly,_ to make sure their beloved mother is kept sated and elated. I _moan_ with hedonism as a team of handsome _young_ studs caress my beautiful belly while Husband brings another live piggy to my mouth for me to swallow whole...

I wake up drenched in sweat. _Fuck_! I must have cum in my sleep again. As good as it feels _nothing_ gets Mommy grumpier than being awoken early, especially since breakfast is _never_ ready soon enough! The chocolate waterfall I had dreamed overflowing my mouth was just the cruelly translated torrent of hungry, slimy drool now soaking my face, hair and pillows.

I survey my surroundings, admiring my own gorgeous corpulence spreading like butter ( _mmmmmmmmm_ ) out in front of me. My ampleness _beautifully_ fills this triple-wide-king-sized bed leaving little free space, my hips draping over each edge. My Queen belly is so sexily heavy and wide, arching upwards by 4 feet and stretching over the edge of the mattress where its extremity rests heftily on its own Chaise Lounge. It's so huge that every minor movement causes it to jiggle, often _rumbling_ and _grumbling_ with impatient starvation. My perfect tits trail down my body, resting heavily on my hippo hips which are each made of multiple shelves of overlapping dough flesh. My arms rest comfortably, unable to move due to the accumulated segments of flab and _each_ weighing at least _250lbs_. Their many rings of blubber overlap one another and threaten to bury my now useless hands. Hidden beneath my _goddess_ gut are my seriously sexy legs, permanently spread eagle from the encroachment of my pressing stomach as well as the vastness of my thighs. Each is as wide and round as a barrel and decreases like drumsticks into comparatively small (but still obese) calves, themselves so fat they threaten to overbear my sweet little pedicured tootsies! My chubby feet peek out either side of my gut, warmly encased in a pair of fluffy pink slippers. Beneath this exaggerated form _would_ be a fairly petite frame, quacks have put me at a mere 5"2'. My weight _should_ (ugh!) be 125lbs, but I weigh _waaaaay_ more at _9,134lbs_! I wouldn't know that but my hubby installed a scale into this bed when I was a little lighter (18 and _only_ 2,007lbs, so sweet!) so he can keep tabs. That number is fairly conservative, though, as my weight can go up and down during a day by a margin of 200lbs depending how well I've been fed. But, anyways, back to talking about how beautiful I am!  
  
In addition to this hot body my face is _perfect_. I’m so beautiful, much more than any of my daughters. I never wear makeup because I simply don’t need it. Usually my flawless features are decorated with powdered sugar, donut jelly, Nutella, chicken alfredo and all sorts of feasting. My delicate china doll nose is bunched up like I’ve had plastic surgery, but it’s just my natural perfection, dotted with a constellation of sweet freckles and surrounded by smooth, pumpkin cheeks. My moon-sized violet eyes sit sleepily, _hypnotically_ alluring in my gorgeous fat face. My plump lips pout like a model, glossy as I constantly _slurp_ them with hungry anticipation. My caramel ( _mmmmmmmmm_ ) blonde hair flows down past my shoulders and looks even more attractive with the usual shrapnel of feasting it accommodates, playing host to popcorn and pizza sauce and mashed potatoes amongst _many_ others.  
  
Despite being _by far_ the most striking object in the room I'm not its only interesting feature. My expansive floor is littered with food garbage. Styrofoam cases, McDonalds bags, pop bottles, plastic ice cream tubs, pie tins, cake trays and pizza boxes. Against each wall is a 6 foot bank of garbage bags accumulated by my family's pathetic attempts to clean up after me. A cradle hangs close to the ceiling above my four-poster silk-curtain bed which can be operated by a pulley on the far wall to winch up my enormous belly when the staff needs access to my coochie. 6-foot long tables run along the wall either side of my headboard, hosting platters and platters of delicious food. Pheasants and onion rings and cream cakes and noodles and pies and various other examples of evocatively fattening fare wait like an army to fight my starvation. Across from me is a pair of pedestal fans, silently spinning to keep my body temperature down, they feel _amazing_ when my gut is lifted and their cool breeze reaches my impeccable pussy. They also blow around the smell of my _always_ fresh flatulence but that's only gross for others so I don't give a shit. I like when my farts stink, watching my kids gag and their eyes bleed. The worse it smells the better I’ve been pampered, they should appreciate it! Sometimes in the summer when the fans aren't enough I have a couple of my kids help keep me cool with long palm leaves. _Ahhhh_ , being a Mommy is awesome! On either side of my opulent boudoir is a set of extra-large double doors that allow instant access to the en suit kitchens, the interiors of which I've actually never seen, being bedbound and all. The heavenly smells that emanate from within constantly stir up my capricious appetite.

From a vat in the room above me a plastic feeding tube runs to my sweet, suckling lips, currently filling me with warm melted cheese. Hubby slips it between my lips every night when I’m asleep so I can suckle through my slumber and have something to snack on _immediately_ upon waking, I simply despise not getting to eat straight away. It’s not enough though and mixed with the tempting wafts from the kitchen my stomach starts to _growl_ impatiently. Now fully awake, I yawn, the _bellowing_ of my mighty lungs mixed with the rapturous _roar_ of my starved stomach alerting my servants it's time for Mommy's breakfast.

My snout _wriggles_ like I’m snuffling truffles, detecting something delicious close by. My heart skips excited as I spy a _half-eaten chocolate gateau_ resting mushy and deflated on my tits! I suddenly recall last night. I had finished my 6th dinner as well as all 4 gigantic dessert courses and had settled into my less frantic bedtime binging which usually lasts from just after my midnight snack through to 4am. As always I was fighting to stay awake so I could keep eating but must have dozed off halfway through this forsaken cake. That’s _typical_ of my _RETARD_ family. Those idiots _never_ feed me quickly enough. Now it’s tauntingly out of reach an impossible half a foot away from my _howling_ countenance. I _moan_ and _mew_ , whining louder than a bitch in childbirth. _Nobody_ has _ever_ suffered like this! Ever! My tongue strains towards the stale treat and my arms huff and shuffle just to grab even the most measly morsel. They barely even wobble, even if I could move them my elbows are far too bloated to bend, making it impossible to get food to my own face. My dexterous nose tells me the gateau has gone dry, but no bother, I often eat food long past good. Hubby once found a full roast turkey preserved beneath the airless sweltering depths of my skin folds 2 months after Thanksgiving and I excitedly gobbled it up. I'll just have them deep fry this cake for me as a pre-pre-breakfast-snack-snack. _Mmmmmm_. I actually have 4 restaurant grade deep fryers, soon to be 5 with Christmas in a week! I'm _so_ excited. I got my first deep fryer for my birthday this year from one of my kids. At the time I thought it was a retarded present since it's blasphemously not food and had whichever kid it was severely punished for it (even though they _also_ got me food) but within a couple of minutes I grew to love it. Husband showed me how it could be used to make grub all the more delicious in a warm and gooey _crunchy_ carapace of batter. Fucking nummyyy! The first thing he deep fried for me was a couple hundred King sized Snickers bars, I've never looked back. I’m in love! I deep fry everything; ice cream, cake, Easter Eggs, it's perfect! Of course, my offending child still had to be punished since I’d got myself excited for their castigation. They were on septic tank duty for _two weeks_ , they slept down there and everything.  
  
The help comes in to deliver my usual waking-up food. Hostess trolleys covered in sponge cake and waffles and pancakes saturated with butter, topped with whipped cream and a _little_ bit of fruit ( _IE_ blobs of jelly) with chocolate chips and ice cream. I smile at this beautiful site and excitedly knead the pillowed truck-tire rings of flubber that are my wrists, employing some of the only autonomy I have left. As two of my anonymous wetback maids shovel it all in my manic mouth (one simply holding liter bottles of maple syrup for me to shotgun) I notice Husband approach my fetid bedside.  
  
" _Good morning, Sweetness_."  
  
He kisses me on the bloated cheek so as not to interrupt my eating. I grunt some mindless response.  
  
" _What would you like for breakfast today?_ "  
  
He makes this stupid joke every day but it still pisses me off how dumb he is. I scream that he fully well knows that I want the usual _EVERYTHING_ for breakfast. He laughs. He thinks my hunger fuelled rage is cute, which it totally is, but this is _NO_ time to be making inappropriate, offensive jokes. What a _terrible_ start to the day! Maybe I should fake cry to emotionally torture him…  
  
" _Of course, Princess, in fact I made you your favourite._ "  
  
My cholesterol-clogged heart races, with a full mouth I _slop_ and _squeal_ in my porcine parody of speech.  
  
" **CHHEEEWWW** _Yoo dond_ **NYUMMMM** _mean_ …"  
  
" _That's right, Precious, I ordered the help to cook you up three PigMacs!_ "  
  
 _FUUUUUCK YEAH_! The PigMac is my most _FAVOURITEST_ meal in the whole world! Basically you take a big spit roast piggy, take the guts out (eat them separately) and then stuff it with as many quadruple patty Big Macs as you can fit! You fill in all the minimal gaps with ketchup, mustard, whatever’s in the grease trap. It's beautiful. The first time I saw one I was more speechless and emotional than when _any_ of my kids were born. I actually cried a little. No wonder I fell so in love with my husband! He's super-hot and has looked after me since we started dating 23 years ago. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was 11 years old and 900lbs of pure prepubescent pudge. At that time I spent all day in our appropriately named lounge, sprawled out on my fold out couch in my pink cupcake pajamas and little pink stretchy hot pants hugging tightly to my fat little hiney and disappearing up my asshole like a thong. Mommy and Daddy worked all day (it was expensive keeping me fed) but I had my older brothers looking after me. God, they're such good slaves. They still come over most days of the week since we're so close, I don't care if they abandon their dumb families just to take care of me, they know how much attention I need. A couple of them _still_ have broken fingers from when I would bite so hard during my teething years. There was also my little sister, I forget her name. Anyway, they would bring me food and change my diaper (yeah, yeah, 11 and still in diapers, sexy, I know) and change channels for me as I watched cartoons and glutted my childhood away. They always made sure I got whatever I wanted. It was bliss. Anyway, what the fuck was I talking about? Oh yeah, how I met my asshole husband. He was a pizza delivery boy at his dad’s company so obviously made a _lot_ of visits to my house. His restaurant was only 5 minutes away so we’d order from there _at least_ 6 times a day. He’d come over and bring the pizzas right into my room, straight to my bed. He would always smile at me and say hi and shit. Sometimes he would even help feed the pizzas to me in lieu of payment. I didn’t care too much other than having a sexy new feeder, but as soon as I found out he was set to inherit the pizza company I couldn’t help but fall in love with him. Well, that’s what I told him. Even though he was 19 at the time and I was only 11 we started dating. I say date, I just stayed in bed as he fed me. Nothing's changed. He's always making sure I'm happy by doing _anything_ I order him to and he's always bringing me food which is all I ever want from him. He makes up a lot of special recipes as well like the PigMac. There's also the peanut butter lasagna which is useful for when I need to get some meat in to me but crave dessert. Ditto for the bacon wedding cake!  
  
I _giggle_ in euphoria as husband and some staff wheel in my first PigMac. My pink parachute-sized nightgown is _soaked_ to translucency from my stimulated slavering and sexual sweating. They lay the first PigMac across my chest between my massive tits. Its greasy membrane sinks into my delicate nightwear, most of my clothes are destroyed in a few weeks from binge-based wear and tear. I rip into my PigMac, taking only 20 minutes to finish. For me this is more of a snack, so my wonderful husband surprises me with an extra 5 scrumptious, stuffed swine. Just to be a brat I order 3 more, laughing sweetly as my husband playfully pretends to be blown away my continued hunger. I know he gets extra ready just for me, he’s a good baby boy. He orders the slave women to fetch my farmyard feast while he kisses my neck rolls. The feel of his stubble scratching my blubber get me so wet, I _love_ older men. He starts to suck on my pudge and my loins call out. This is no time for sex, though! He knows the rule, belly first, pussy second! I demand a kiss then bite his lip as punishment for getting distracted and demand the rest of my breakfasts. I get crammed with cereal, bagels, sausage, eggs and Christ knows how many boxes of Tim Hortons until my belly is almost bloating. It's stretched out so much by the rapacious repast that it's no longer bouncy but is now turgid. I relax through my deep breathing, releasing a _barrage_ of _toxic gut farts_. My slaves’ faces wince with the stink but Husband reminds them to be grateful, they _could_ have no jobs at all, or someone could call immigration. My husband is gonna get some amazing sex for this one. Not from me, obviously, I'm too busy, but I'll let him rape one of the maids or something. My lips are slimy with cooked grease, my hair is drenched from the succulent juices. I'm completely covered in condiments. My bed is decimated with dead flesh as my husband starts to lovingly massage my belly so I may cram more in to it. Not that that's ever been a problem.  
  
" _KAYLEE_!!!"  
  
One of my slaves is this little 14 year old _bitch_ named Kaylee. That might seem pretty young but she actually started working for me when she was 11. She rushes in to my decadent wasteland of a room, wading through the garbage and loyally reporting to my bedside.  
  
" _Yes, Mistress?_ "

I look her up and down, sneering with disgusted condescension. She’s basically a skeleton. I _love_ to starve my servants, the only person who should _ever_ eat under this roof is _me_ , but it also turns me on to see the contrast of skinny little Kaylee next to some enormously bloated part of me. Her skin is ghostly pale from undernourishment and overwork and her black hair is ragged and patchy from the stress of her job. She’s crammed into the tightest maid’s uniform we could find just so I can watch it get baggier and baggier as she withers away. Her pain is _delicious_. 

" _I'm fucking starved! When's brunch?_ "  
  
" _It'll be ready in 10 minutes._ "  
  
When one of my servants say a meal is ready what they actually mean is they've prepared enough food to keep up with my feeding pace. There's nothing I loathe more than being in the middle of a meal and having to pause because the next course isn’t ready! In our house that gets you beaten.  
  
" _I want it in 5 minutes, you worthless tramp! In the meantime I'll take a couple litres of ice cream to tide me over._ "  
  
Kaylee obeys and rushes to fetch my confection. I relax, for once, guzzling a few-dozen tubs of Kraft Dinner with extra cheese and extra ketchup, reminiscing on how Kaylee came to serve me. My sweet husband was picking me up a little 12-course snack from King Chung's one day when he found her begging outside. She was homeless and pregnant and an opiate addict and my darling lover brought her home as a gift for me. She told us all about her life on the street and how she was worried about the future of her unborn baby. I didn't give a fuck (who would?) and just laid out her duties as my new feeding slave. I worked her so hard her first day she almost miscarried. I laughed _so_ hard! Kaylee will always remember that day because it was her birthday, which she now celebrates with my family by seeing that I get _17 times_ my normal feeding fare. Also, she doesn't work for money, she works for drugs, but I cleverly figured out she'll desperately toil for longer and longer between each pay day because her addiction is so overwhelming. Every now and again we'll give her a couple extra pills so we don't accidentally wean her off the stuff, I wouldn't want to lose control over her. She’s so focused on her kick she never gets time to take care of her dumb kid, who's quickly being drafted into my servitude, and the stupid slut is pregnant again (by one of my boys I believe, god I'm proud of them.) As long as she keeps working basically for free and I keep getting fed I can't help but not give a fuck! My favourite thing about her though is that she's still lactating and I make sure _all_ her milk comes _straight_ to _me_. Her baby is to get _none_ or she's fucking fired. Kaylee lives in our basement and has worked for me so long she's become like a daughter to me the way I abuse and overwork her and ignore her basic human rights.  
  
" **BUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP** _AND AFTER I'M FINISHED WITH THE ICE CREAM I WANT SOME MILK!!_ "  
  
I settle in and watch my snuff porn. Husband downloaded it for me and I like to watch as I graze. It’s one of my favourites, they’re speaking some dumb foreign language but what matters is the two huge dudes pinning the _young_ girl down and raping her. I _groan_ with lust, my vag frothing in excitement as they penetrate her little body. The way she screams is glorious as the second guy starts fucking her mouth, covering her in cum like the worthless whore she is. The part that always gets me off is when they stab her in the throat. The blood gushing out of the red smile in her neck, her severed neck hanging backwards off the bedside as her life spills out of her. I also have a film where they kill a bitch’s kids in front of her and one where a pregnant teenager is raped then eaten by dogs. Glorious.

It's at this point I notice one of my kids stood at my bedside. Richelle, my 4-year-old cutie pie daughter. She's as thin as an African orphan and ragged from continuous service to her beloved Mommy. Her little blue nightdress is tattered, covered in rips and bloodstains, her hands are bruised from multiple bites and her eyes are baggy with exhaustion. She's almost up to her shoulders in the depths of food garbage!  
  
" **BUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPP** _Wod da_ **SNOORRFFF CHEEWW** _fugg doo yoo_ **BLOOMMMMMM SMAAKKKK** _wond_??"  
  
She timidly looks down at her feet.  
  
" _Umm... Daddy says I has to help feed you..._ "  
  
" **CHOOMMM SLUUKKKK** _Wade a mimute_ **GUULLLLPPPPPP** _shouldn't you be in school?_ "  
  
" _Umm... Mommy you saided that I'm not allowed to go to school because I'm a little slut and I'm supposed to help feed you and make you happy..._ "  
  
I guess she's been helping me eat for the past little while, I just hadn't noticed.  
  
" **RAAAARRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP** _oh yeah, well in that case do your fucking job and go get Mommy some food. I'm in the mood for some more of those foot-long éclairs from last night, saaaaay 1000 or so._ "  
  
She fidgets with her tired and bruised hands, clearly anxious about something.  
  
" _There's none more left, Mommy._ "  
  
I _huff_ , narrowing my eyes with outrage at this pathetic little 4-year-old whore and her excuses. She’s _SO_ lazy. Sensing trouble brewing, my husband rushes to my bedside.  
  
" _You BETTER be fucking joking, madam, or you're in HUGE fucking trouble!!_ "  
  
" _But Mommy, you eated them all..._ "  
  
" _THAT’S NO EXCUSE!!”_ I pause, taking a moment to gain composure and think straight, _“You need to be taught a lesson about respecting Mommy! Fingers!!_ "  
  
She pouts, as if that could save her, clinging to Daddy's leg, putting her faith in his paternal protection, looking up at him with tears in her wide eyes in the hopes he'll contradict my orders. Instead he, of course, complies with my malicious wishes. He grabs her sharply by the wasted waist, placing her on my titanic girth where she bobs up and down in the flubber of my giantess gut, sinking by a foot or so.  
  
" _NOW!!_ " I scream.  
  
She cries, sucking her thumb, begging and asking me to please not hurt her. Daddy grabs her arm and pulls her roughly, nearly dislocating her shoulder so her tiny hand is right at my face. I open wide like a crocodile and Daddy places her hand in my mouth. She's clenching her fist to perhaps save herself but my darling husband forcefully separates her fingers so they're all laid out for me like little French fries. I bite and the bitch _SCREAMS_. There's a loud _SNAP_ , I feel a crunching and taste her sweet blood as she cries and tries to pull away pathetically, my Rottweiler grip too powerful for her. Once I’m bored I let go, making her fall from my belly. She hits the floor, _smacking_ her head on the ground, and staggers off crying back to the kitchen where she'll work without food or sleep for the next 2 days. That'll teach her not to do whatever it is she did that pissed me off. I forget. Anyway...  
  
It might seem a bit harsh but that's a mother's job, teaching her children, guiding them in life. It just so happens that all my guiding is towards my tummy. _Tee hee_! I am seriously an awesome Mommy, though. I _never_ make my kids do their homework and I let them stay home from school whenever I need them here to feed me. What other kids can say their mom lets them miss exams and school dances just to hang out with her? They’re so lucky! I'm a total _MILF_ too! Any time one of my boys brings home a friend of theirs to show me off they're always dumbstruck by how fine I am. They literally have no idea what to say. Some of them are pretty hot, I might let one or two of them fuck me if they're lucky, and if they bring me food, of course.  
  
My 5-course spaghetti snack (which I hadn't even realized I'd started) is suddenly interrupted by the arrival of my eldest son, Brody. He's 17 and big and strong and happy to see his beloved Mommy, I'm happier, however, to see all the food he's brought me.  
  
"MMMMMMMMMMMMM _what's that you've got there, boy? A present for your sexy Mommy?_ "  
  
Brody presents me with an armful of brown lunch bags. He’s so loyal and one of the best at worshipping me. He has a little crush on Mommy, meaning I can control him through his cock as well as his heart. The look on his face when he watches me fuck his Daddy (or whoever) always makes me laugh, which is why I always make him watch.  
  
" _These aren't the only ones I got you, Mommy, there are more kid's lunches out in the hallway!_ " he brags sycophantically, reduced to an adoring little boy in my glorious presence.  
  
I pout. " _Well? Go get them then!!_ "  
  
He drops the brown bags on the side of my bed. That's the only reason I make my kids go to school, all 4 of my boys are bullies and love to make me happy by stealing other kids' lunches. I get them to steal mainly from the real young kids because it's easier and also I've found younger kids have more sweet stuff in their lunches. Kaylee tears open the first brown bag (I eye her ample chest, drooling dementedly thinking about the milk within) and its contents spill onto my paunch so I may inspect the pathetic offering my little boy has brought me. A saran wrapped sandwich! Ugh! That little shit knows I absolutely _refuse_ to use my arms, even if that were possible my fingers are _waaaaay_ too fat to unwrap that stuff. What else do we have here? An _apple_ and a _GRANOLA BAR_?!? That's it. The little cunt is in _HUGE_ trouble!  
  
" _BROOOOODYYYYY!!!!!!!!_ "  
  
Kaylee tries to offset my temper, often unleashed on her, by cramming more lunch food in to my screaming mouth, feeding me stolen treats between meaty sour-cream-dripping quesadillas. Brody rushes in, dumping more pilfered lunches at my bedside. He quickly unwraps the sandwich as I _scream_ at him about how I gave up _everything_ to raise him and his shit-head siblings and what thanks do I get? He shoves the sandwich into my mouth, crying and apologizing and being a total faggot. _Mmmmmmmmm_ , peanut butter and jelly. Beautiful. At this point I notice my other kids are gathered around my bed loyally awaiting my attention and also stuffing their stolen lunches into me. I sweetly note my handsome husband helping to carry it (even including a few-dozen lunchboxes!) to the side of my bed to await my ingestion. There must be 300 lunches here, which provides me with a miserable 15 minutes of snacking.

They may not like being hated around school but if they don’t do this for me they get kicked out of the house. They don't have time to get jobs when their poor _defenseless_ Mommy needs so much attention, so this is how they pay their rent. They have to learn that you can't just coast through life expecting everything to be handed to you.  
  
" **BUUUUUUURRRRRPPPPPPPP** _MORE FOOOOOOOD!!!!!!!!! NOW!!!!!!!!_ "  
  
Last to present her wares is my eldest daughter, Calina. With girls it's different. Where I have my big strong boys beat up kids to feed Mommy I've _cunningly_ conditioned my daughters to exploit their feminine charms for my afternoon appetizer. I don't mean they flirt with boys to get their lunches, I mean they'll give the guys at their school anything, and I mean _anything_. They've been doing it since kindergarten, at first they just sold kisses but now I make sure they know to do _whatever_ it takes to get me a little more to binge on. She presents her earnings to me like a whore to its pimp and I am _not_ pleased with her offering.  
  
" **LLAAAAAAAARRRKKKKKK!!!!!!!!** _FIVE?!???! THAT'S ALL YOU BRING ME IS FIVE MEASLY_ **BUUUUUUUUUUUUUURPPPPPPPPPPP** _LUNCHES?? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU???_ "  
  
I can get through 5 lunches in less than 10 seconds and in our house food isn't considered food unless it takes me over an hour to polish off. Calina's offering is so absolutely _pathetic_ that I could disown her. I demand she explain her lack of payment.  
  
" _Umm, but, M-Mommy... the boys wa-want me to d-d-do stuff f-for them... sex stuff._ "  
  
" **BUUUUURRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP** " flecks of chewed up zebra cakes splatter over her, " _Well of CORD dey_ **GNAARRLLLL** _wand yoo_ **SMAAKKK** _do doo_ **NYOMM SUUCCHHH** _segs stuv_ **SLUUKKKK YAARRRMMMM** _dey gum doo_ **NAAARLLLL GRAKKKK** _eggspegd it_!"  
  
It's true, my sweet little girls have quite the reputation around school as _major_ sluts. Though, to be fair, they're doing it for food for me so they're not really sluts, they're whores.  
  
" _But M-Mommy... please, I d-don't w-w-wanna d-do it..._ "  
  
My other kids _gasp_. I am dumbstruck, a thick blob of bolognaise sauce rolls down my multiple chins as I thoughtfully fletcherise and contemplate this infidelity. I can’t contain my wrath for long as tears of rage well and my form flabbers about as I throw a fit.  
  
" _HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!!! I'm at home ALL DAY starving and slaving away and trying to run this household while you LAZY selfish little SHITS fuck around at school two days a week having fun and being sluts and ALL I ask is that you bring Mommy home a little sumthin'sum yet you dumb little tramps can't even do THAT without fucking up!! Well, you need to be punished._ "  
  
I take deep breaths and collect myself. I am a reasonable parent after all. My stomach is rising and falling like a tidal wave with my angry exhaustion.  
  
" _DADDY!! BRING ME MARZIPAN!!_ "  
  
Hubby, who is currently rubbing my belly to calm my nerves, rushes out of the room. He returns a second later with Calina's stuffed toy rabbit, Marzipan. She's had that stupid toy since she was born and it's been her only constant companion on the long nights of neglect, besides her abusive, bullying siblings.  
  
" _No, Daddy, please!_ "  
  
I giggle excitedly at the torture about to befall my dumb and deserving daughter. Hubby rips Marzipan's head clean off. Calina bursts in to tears and whines like a dog as she watches my now much sexier husband rip the stuffing from the eviscerated bunny and chuck it all into one of the many trash cans that adorn my room before setting it on fire. She's on her knees, hands between her legs and head buried in her chest, leant against my flabby hips as they drape over my bed side, sobbing wretchedly with despair. I laugh my fat ass of at this, my belly jiggling like an earthquake of euphoria at my whore daughter's utter misery. That'll learn her.  
  
" **UUUUUURRRPPPPP** _and next time it'll be the REAL bunny! Now, tomorrow you're going to school in the sluttiest get-up you have--_ "  
  
" _She has that lap dancer outfit you sent her out in for Trick or Treating last year, Mommy._ " Brody interjects. I lick my lips with excitement and licentiously wink at him as his strong hands lovingly and tenderly knead my engorged and stretched breasts. I slobber salaciously all across these monstrous maternal masses, soaking him.  
  
" **RAAARRRRPPP** _YES! That's what you'll wear tomorrow. You've filled out over the past year so that'll work beautifully. It might be a bit too small but that'll just make it work better. Do WHATEVER it takes to bring me doub-- no, TRIPLE, what your siblings COLLECTIVELY bring me or you'll be doing kitchen work until you graduate. I don't give a fuck if you don't want to put out for my food, it's about time you started having sex, you are 12 after all. Now, get in the kitchen and help make Mommy's lunch you ugly cunt!!_ "  
  
She's dragged off to the kitchen by two of her older brothers. I contently relax, letting my anger abate as Richelle starts feeding me a 5lb block of cheese. Yummy! I shout after Calina, warning her that if she comes home tomorrow still a virgin she'll be grounded for a year.  
  
It may seem a tad harsh but I'm dedicated to raising my children. Plus, I've always been a bit obsessed with food ever since I can remember. One time when I was 7 years old, in 2nd grade (the year I dropped out of school) I was eating in class as always when the teacher took my food away. I had a 2-foot long meatball sub and was loudly chomping away at it, the floor around me littered with candy wrappers and bits of cake and meatball sauce I'd slopped everywhere. My desk was soaking with all my constant burping and drooling. I was such a cutie, my caramel blonde hair was in little pig tails and my enormous tummy was squeezed into a purple shirt that barely came down to above my belly button, my bib was stained with food sloppings and I wore a little pair of red shorts that looked almost painted on with how tight my little bum was squeezed in to them. Anyway, my brothers would come in to my class every now and again to bring me food so I never went hungry and for some reason the teacher decided he didn't want me to eat anymore. He must have been jealous because his own daughter was so skinny and ugly (he told us once about how she was 6 and had a brain tumour, which I found hilarious. That pissed him off for some reason. At least she's dead now, _lol_!) but anyway the stupid prick took my fucking grub! Just snatched it away mid-binging and said I couldn't have it back until the end of the day. There was _no way_ I could go until the end of the day without eating. I was so fucking furious at this infidelity I threw a fit. I screamed so loud every classroom could hear me and I soiled my diaper in protest. Needless to say, my teacher _had_ to be punished. I’m a genius, officially. I was tested at a year old and these think-tank people said I had a 183 IQ and could change the world. Knowing I could have discovered medicines to save lives or invent something that would make everyone happy just makes me _even more_ turned on to spend my life getting fat and bullying everyone around me. Anyway, my point is my genius has only ever been used to manipulate and torment those around me and I’m _good_ at it. So when I got home after school that day I put on my awesome fake crying act. I told Mommy and Daddy that teacher had kept me behind at recess and touched me in my special areas. I told them he had taken my shirt off and played with my tits (by age 6 my boobs were already bigger than Mommy's) and kissed me and that it made me feel bad. I asked if it was my fault and if I was a bad girl. The next day he was arrested. In fact, I think my husband mentioned something about him still being in prison. His wife divorced him and everything, it was _so_ funny. It might seem a bit drastic but food is food and people need to learn that _I'm_ in charge and do _not_ fuck with me! My parents, who didn't know I had lied, were distraught over the whole thing but I decided not to tell them the truth since they were smothering me with so much guilt food I gained _20lbs_ in the week after it happened! I know it broke their hearts to think I’d been molested but… whatever. I _need_ food. I still remind them even to this day that it was their fault and that I'm damaged from the whole experience just to get more grub out of them. What a naughty little minx I am. _Tee hee_.  
  
Two hours later I'm enjoying a snack between lunches. It's actually 9 in the evening but I always get to lunch so late because I'm just so busy. Everything is perfect until Husband enters the room, rustling through the accumulated garbage burying my floor.  
  
" _Honey, there are some people here who need to speak to us._ "  
  
I'm presently enjoying a 5lb tub of chili with meatballs and hotdogs so I'm not really welcome to receiving visitors. I _huff_ threateningly at him, ground beef _shooting_ up like a geyser into the loyal face of whichever dumb kid is hand scooping food into my open and passive mouth.  
  
" _NOD NOOOWWWW_!!"  
  
A man and a woman enter, each about 40 or so. The woman looks familiar and for some reason sets off a hungry temptation in my tummy. I lick my lips.  
  
" _Oh dear lord_ " the woman exclaims, looking around the mess of my room and myself.  
  
" _Now, dear, let's not be rude._ " Her husband takes her arm. " _Hello, Mrs. Royle, is it? My name is Peter Strype and this is my wife Elaine._ "  
  
I _scoff_ mockingly, as if I give a shit who they are. I've literally already forgotten their names.  
  
" **SMAKKKKK** _Ged rid_ **CHOMMM** _ob dem_!" I warn Husband, " **LUUURRRKKK** Richelle! I neey **SLLUUUKKKKK** _a shid!!_ "  
  
" _Mrs. Royle, please, hear us out. We're looking for our daughter, Kaylee. She ran away from home, we haven’t seen her in 3 years and we’re worried she’s been trafficked. She was pregnant and someone awful could have taken advantage of her._ "  
  
Richelle starts preparing me for my dump. My 4-year-old princess begins to winch down the extra-strength cradle designed to hold up my gut, but a malicious whim overcomes me. “ _Nu-uh, missy, don’t be lazy, you can hold my belly up yourself.”_

I giggle with sadistic bliss as Richelle burrows like a lil’ rabbit under my tummy to hold my gut up with her back. It’s so heavy it must be crushing her spine, a thought that causes my clit to tingle _magically_. Her head’s facing inwards so she’s met with the poisonous fetor of Mummy’s glorious royal pussy juice. It’s also so sweaty under there she’s absolutely drenched as my slimy undercarriage _oozes_ over her, stinging her eyes and taxing her little lungs. She shakes and struggles, checking the absorbent bathroom-pad placed there 3 hours ago and already drenched in piss. The interlopers ramble on.

“ _… we were angry, she was only just 11 and pregnant and she ran away to be with her 21 year old boyfriend…”_

Richelle just manages to hold my thighs wide enough apart that my anus is exposed. I let loose a gushing fountain of wet feculence as my baby slave helps hold Mommy’s ass cheeks open. The stench fills my boudoir, fetid and heavy and leaving everyone but me breathless. A Morse code pattern of farts erupts from deep within my bowels.

“ _… apparently he kicked her out and she moved downtown…”_

I blast a _nasty_ shart (brewing for at least 20 minutes) right in Richelle’s stupid face and I hear her squeal as scat _splatters_ in her eyes and mouth. I can already feel my dumps mounting up, slowly burying my little girl.

“ _…hired a private investigator to track her down and apparently the last address she was associated with was this one.”_

My excreta is the texture of diarrhea due to my constantly inconsistent consumption. I feel the extreme heat from my nether regions like a pressure cooker. I moan sexually, imagining how unpleasant it must be for my sweet little angel, how scared she must be.

" _So, we were wondering if you know where she is. We haven't slept soundly since she ran away. We're willing to forget everything if she'll just come home to us._ "  
  
I remember vaguely Kaylee telling me all this when we first met. I had to punish her for being boring and talking about something that wasn’t me or food. From the kitchen comes the faint wailing of a forgotten toddler which these stupid old pricks have no idea is their grandchild, I _giggle_ at this irony.  
  
" _It breaks our hearts to think of her out in the world, alone and lost. We just want her home for Christmas._ "  
  
This pulls me out of my ignorant stupor (I always drift away when I’m using the bathroom) and stabs me with a twinge of panic. Now, Christmas is a _very_ busy time for my feeding. On top of my regular diet there's all my Christmas grub to get through as well as all my presents which are usually food and take a couple of months to polish off, so I really can't afford to lose a half-decent feeder. Kaylee spent all of last Christmas day breast feeding me and she'll do the same this year.  
  
" **UUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP** _yeah she's dead._ "  
  
The woman bursts into tears, her worst fears confirmed. I have to stifle my laughter at her delicious misery, pretending to act concerned for these useless idiots. Fortunately my retard husband is momentarily smart enough to corroborate my lie and tells them both how she left our house a few months ago and died of pneumonia or something. I didn’t just tell them their only child was dead because it’s funny, I can’t have them coming back and asking questions and bothering me all the time. The husband starts crying about his stupid dead daughter. No idea why, Kaylee is such a moron _and_ she's fugly!! The wife is in a complete state and keeps blubbering on about how her only daughter, her " _little baby girl_ ," is gone forever. They're both actually being really pathetic about the whole thing and it's super annoying so I have Husband kick them out. He returns a moment later, smiling, proud of how clever I am.  
  
" _Good work, baby!_ "  
  
I'm too pissed off though.  
  
" _How DARE you bring people in to interrupt my eating!!! You know how busy I am!_ "  
  
He kneels by my bedside and takes my fat hand.  
  
" _I'm sorry, Princess..._ "  
  
If I could move my arm I’d slap him like I always used to. Sorry isn't good enough, he'll have to be punished _bad_ for this. Hmmm, maybe I'll ban him from masturbating? Or perhaps I'll make him molest Richelle, that'll show both of them! Yay!  
  
" **LUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRKKKKKKKKKK** _you are NOT to tell Kaylee her parents came by. I do NOT need her getting any ideas about leaving!! Do you understand me, moron??!?_ "  
  
" _Yes, Sweetness..._ "  
  
Fuck, I'm awesome.

40 minutes later I’m still shitting, we end up having to use the belly-cradle because Richelle passes out and I spend the remaining time eating (obviously) and thinking of ways to punish her. Kaylee enters, having returned from visiting the 15 closest supermarkets to prepare for my festive breakfast. I don't have any guilt about the fact I just denied this lazy little tramp a chance of happiness, she belongs to _me_ and I will do _whatever_ I want with her. The same goes for my family.  
  
" _KAYLEE! Deep fry me a couple hundred bags of marshmallows! And get the toddlers in here, they can help me finish my dump._ "  
  
She assembles her 3-year-old daughter and my youngest kids and together the children pry my legs apart, removing the now epically soiled bathroom pad and taking it out to the garden. Kaylee removes her tits from her ragged shirt and lies across my food smeared paunch to deliver my quarter-hourly feeding. At the same time my girls pour a huge mixing bowl of melted creamy chocolate into my indolently open awaiting mouth to enjoy with my milk. I shoot them an evil glare and they add custard and honey in to the mix, the sweet silky soup streaming dreamily into me, down my throat, overflowing from my mouth and running down my numerous chins. The decadence overwhelms me as my children work tirelessly to keep their beloved Mommy comfortable. I _moan_ with hedonistic elation as my big strong baby boy studs salaciously massage my enormous belly and Husband brings in another PigMac.

Being a Mommy is the best job in the world!


End file.
